Hidden Pleasures
by Jennifer Hart
Summary: Nine people  and nine surprising hobbies.


**Title: Hidden Pleasures**

**Rating: G**

**Classification: General/Humor**

**Disclaimers: Own them? Come on, after writing this what makes you think DPB would let me anywhere near them?**

**Summary: Nine people and nine surprising hobbies.**

**A/N: You can thank a thread on Special Ops for this bit of weirdness. We were talking about bizarre mental images, and that led me to having some fun wondering what might be hobbies that we'd never expect. The song is from **_**Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat**_

"Oh, come on, man! What are you, blind?" The four corgis exploded into barking at the shout.

"Really, Donald," Victoria Mallard scolded. "Is there any reason for those outbursts?"

"There is when a man who's a former ice dancer watches the sport he won an Olympic gold medal in and gives a team 5.5 for presentation when they basically sleep-walked through the entire routine," Ducky retorted hotly. "A 5.0 would have been generous."

Victoria just shook her head and carefully rubbed Contessa's head. "There, now, it's all right. It's all right."

"What the blazes? You call that a waltz?" The corgi flinched again and Victoria just sighed. It was going to be a long night.

0

_And twelve minutes means they should be done right about...now!_

Ziva pulled open the oven door and reached for the cookie sheet, transferring it to the stove. Her next sheet of neatly shaped oatmeal batter sat on the counter, ready to put in. She carefully did so, checked the time on the stove again, and move to the first sheet to start transferring the freshly baked cookies to the cooling towel.

She chuckled. Apparently the recipe had been right about the number of cookies it made. Ziva was so used to getting shortchanged that she had begun doubling recipes as a matter of habit when she was baking. A habit that had backfired this time.

_Oh, well_. _There's always everyone at work_. If there was anything she'd learned from being the control officer of four male Mossad agents it was that all men came with a strong sheep tooth.

0

It was an accident. Tony had insisted that to himself over and over as he sat on the couch the first time, in front of _Loves Music, Loves to Dance_. He'd seen the cop questioning the woman – the rather cute, blond woman – while channel surfing and had taken a professional interest in seeing the investigation side of things. And it was that professional interest that had made him miss the "Lifetime" logo in the corner of the screen, which would indicate this was probably more aimed at a female audience, for an entire act, at which point it was sort of hard to not want to know just who was behind the internet dating killings.

And the second one, _Moonlight Becomes You_. Come on, Donna Mills? No self-respecting guy could pass up the chance to not watch her in a movie if there was the slightest indication of a crime involved.

_And The Cradle Will Fall_ – well, there was some kind of weird experimentation going on, right, with whatever that nutcase was doing at the fertility clinic? That was close enough to sci-fi and crime for a reasonable man to be a little intrigued, right?

Besides that, Jeanne said she read Mary Higgins Clark – the author of all the books on which the movies were based – all the time. So, he needed to do research on her interests as part of his undercover assignment. It was all part of getting to know the target.

Of course.

0

"Crap!" Abby sighed and leaned over to untangle the thread, for what had to be the fourth time in the last hour. This wasn't her night.

Or morning, according to the clock. 1:30 to be precise. She supposed she should go to bed. She had to be up early the next day to go testify in court. But counted crosstitch already required diligent concentration to remember the number of stitches — she didn't need to make things more difficult on herself by stopping in the middle of a section. Especially when she would probably finish it within a half hour — at least, if her thread would quit knotting.

And, it was relaxing. It kept her mind off all the stress she was facing tomorrow, like testifying in court.

Abby finished untangling her thread and settled down to complete her stitch.

0

Jenny crouched in front of the bookshelf, running her finger along the spines. She knew she had it — she'd only reread it and the rest in the series every year since she was a young girl.

After a second, she spotted it. The first of eight well-worn volumes that had once belonged to her mother. All had a bookmark somewhere, because she bounced around, depending on which one she felt like reading. When they worked anti-terrorist ops, she always read book eight. When it was taking forever to solve a case, she'd take comfort in the lightness of volume seven. But tonight, after a long day of dealing with stodgy politicians who didn't have a spark of imagination in them, there was only one that would do. She pulled it out.

_Anne of Green Gables_, the book that started it all. Jenny smiled and straightened up, before walking towards her room, the book tightly clutched in one hand. Time for a different redhead's problems.

0

The wind was coming up harsher, now, sprinkling snow across his cheeks. He knew he was probably going to be red as a beet tomorrow with this windburn. Oh well, the slopes on a day like today were worth it.

The sun was starting to set, this would have to be his last run of the night. He was determined to make it a good one.

He pushed off, smoothly skimming the snow in a series of perfect S-shapes. Rapid, powerful, in perfect control. Just him against the mountain, until he finally glided to a stop.

McGee pushed his goggles up on his face and took a last look up at the hill. There really was nothing like it.

0

_Paris_.

The man looked at the lined pad in front of him for a second, then wrote two more lines.

_Place of freedom and fun._

_Place of prisons and secrets_.

He shook his head. That didn't fit.

_Place of prisons and deaths_.

That was better, he went on.

_A city of light, a city of darkness_.

Ari smiled sadly. How well he knew that last part.

0

"Okay, root beer!"

Kate held up the bottle. "Check!"

Lucia consulted her list. "Popcorn!"

Kate reached for the large bowl on the coffee table.

"Nachos!"

"Check!"

"Chocolate!"

"Definitely, check!" The two women laughed.

"And of course, the remote?"

"Check!" Kate held it up triumphantly. "Let's watch some hockey!"

0

"Alone he sat, alone he thought." The singer's voice was a sweet soprano. "Of happy times he used to know." A male performer stepped next to the "cell" – which for the practice was only a square of four chairs.

"Hey, Dreamer, don't get so upset."

Gibbs approached from the other side, his voice a light tenor. "Hey, Joseph. You're not beaten yet." He then stepped back as the rest of the chorus approached, ready to join in.

THE END


End file.
